


Unleashed

by pandafish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Filthy, Implied Mpreg, Impregnation, James "Bucky" Barnes is an alpha, Knotting, M/M, Medical Examination, Peter Parker is an omega, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Subspace, a/o/b, alpha/beta/omega
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandafish/pseuds/pandafish
Summary: In an apocalyptic world torn by war, Hydra has taken control of the government and started a Breeding programme where they use omegas and alphas to breed supersoldiers. A scared, confused Peter Parker is one of the omegas brought in to be bred by Hydra's top soldier.Also Bruce Banner is with Hydra in this one.
Relationships: Peter Parker/James "Bucky" Barnes
Comments: 20
Kudos: 113





	1. The procedure

Bruce tried to balance his cup of coffee while getting out his key card to open the heavy door. It slid open with a click, the little display showing that Bruce was on level four security. It used to make him proud to see the flashing of number four, knowing there was only one level of clearance above him. Now he barely thought of it – he was in a bit of a hurry. The corridor he walked through was a concrete sort of grey and the chill coming off the wall told that they were beneath ground. Most of the facility was beneath ground. The small, unseemly building above them was a post office. At least it posed as one. When he scanned his card again and entered the control room the temperature rose, and he could remove his coat to hang beside the door, greeting his colleges with a nod as he sipped his coffee.   
“Morning doctor” one of the men beside the glass screen said. There were four men in here already to be present during the procedure – all betas of course. Many years had passed since last there was anyone else than a beta allowed to work in administrative affairs at Hydra.   
“Morning Ian” Bruce answered and took his seat. Before them was the screen, but it was really more of a window. You might think it was one of those fake mirrors used in every cop movie, but the people on the other side could see Bruce and his colleges as clearly as they saw them. The little room on the other side was stark white and usually contained nothing but a large, clean mattress and a steel ring stuck to the wall. It was possible to enter the room on the left and on the right, but not without a key card of level four. 

Now, however, the room was not completely empty. On the mattress laid a small omega with the chain from his collar connected to the ring on the wall. He was able to move, but not off the mattress. Right now he was still asleep however, injected with enough sedatives to keep him out at least until the procedure begun. Slowly Bruce took another drink and observed the small male. Indeed he was a tiny specimen. Where he lay naked and curled up on the mattress it was clear he was an omega (and Bruce had examined him himself several times to know he was in top shape) but if he didn’t know better he’d say the boy hadn’t passed maturity yet. He was a head shorter than even Bruce, not an overly tall beta, with delicate features, a very small cock and during examination he'd struggled to even accept two of the doctor's fingers inside. Hopefully, that would not be a problem with the alpha – the little omega should react well to him. 

“He’s brand new, isn’t he doc?” Ian asked, looking at the sleeping, naked male. His hair was a short, brown tangle, even though they’d washed it and combed it thoroughly. Bruce nodded, running a hand through his own hair of the same dark colour, remembering the feeling of caked in dirt before they got the omega clean.   
“We ca-…rescued him just off the Maryland border last week. Answers to the name Peter” Bruce said, catching himself before he slipped up. They were supposed to use positive language, such as "rescuing endangered genders", but as Bruce (being a doctor) was the one receiving these “endangered genders” he also saw the cages they were brought in. It was hard to thing of it as anything other than a capture after that. Not that it made much of a difference. Caught or rescued, the omegas needed to be found and brought in. Hydra's work here was too important, and Bruce was lucky to be a part of it. He checked the control board for Peter's vitals, and continued.   
“We believe he might have been malnourished over a longer time, hence his size, but his reproductive system is impeccable. And he hasn’t been claimed, which is why we’re keeping him on sedatives to make sure he…behaves”. Unclaimed omegas could be more than unruly, but in his case it was also a question of treating his fear. If the alpha smelled a terrified omega, the procedure might not work. 

Omegas were in fact endangered – at least in the States. The Department of Breeding kept many of the ones left in containment, to be used in the programme this omega would soon be involved in. While betas had no special abilities, it was alphas who was essential during the Wars. With some training (and prohibition of mood stabilizer drugs) alphas were easily turned into war machines that no beta could hope to match in battle. Supersoldiers, if you will. Alphas already had the most aggressive nature and the most impressive physique of the three genders, naturally adapted for killing. Whatever had refined them into functioning human beings over the course of evolution could easily be revoked. They were not quite human anymore. It had been the one thing that allowed the States to gain an advantage in the Wars. That’s why Hydra had taken control of the government and created the programme. Betas, who constituted 80% of the population, was the masterminds in Hydra as a operation, while the few alphas who still worked there (such as Commander Rumlow) took charge of the army. This would ensure new soldiers were bred and born in an environment where they could be raised for one purpose only. The omegas born would be raised for an entirely different purpose….yet all serving the Hydra. 

Bruce's part in this was medical. Having kept out of the Wars entirely at first, Hydra officials saw his previous work and recruited him - despite his own feelings about it sometimes Bruce was convinced this would be the only way to stop the violence and reach a peaceful society again. He was in charge of the omegas – the preparations before procedures, the care they needed after and of course their medical needs during pregnancy. In some cases, he ended up calming the omegas. This male had been one example. Even though Peter shivered whenever Bruce had needed to put his hands on him, the omega had eventually started to connect his visits with food and slowly relaxed to his careful touch. A twinge in his stomach reminded Bruce that this would most likely change after the procedure. Speaking of which –   
“He’s coming to it” Ron said, leaning forward. And he was, the lithe little body slowly moving as the omega woke up. It was evident he was groggy from the sedatives, and slowly lifted himself up on his elbows and blinked confusedly. When Peter realized he was chained to the wall Bruce could see on his vitals that his pulse suddenly went up, so he held in the button next to the microphone and spoke gently but firmly.   
“It’s okay. Stay down, and I will let you out when it is over. We talked about this” he told the young omega. Looking around, Peter found him and met Bruce's eyes with his wide, brown ones. There was fear and confusion…and right about that time there was also the sudden smell of an alpha close. Bruce could see his pupils blow out and go black, could see his pulse spiking again and through the ventilation smell the scent he gave off in response. The procedure would begin now. 

The door on the left opened, and the alpha was let in. When Bruce saw which male came through, he furrowed his brow.   
“This isn’t the one we decided on. 5-17 is too large. The omega won’t be able to handle it” he warned, glancing to his side at Ron who sat bent over his computer.   
“8-32 is indisposed. He broke several ribs during training this morning, and besides, we haven’t had an omega with vitals this good in a long while. 5-17 is the best breeding male currently in the programme” he answered, grey sleeves rolled up. He barely even observed the male being brought in by a beta handler. He trashed against his leash, growling at the handler and Bruce knew that if it weren’t for the shock collar around his throat, the alpha would have literally thrown the beta across the room. 5-17 was the tallest one they had, standing at 6.7 feet tall with a chest and shoulders broad enough to intimidate even large alphas in the compound. In the barracks they called him the "Winter Soldier", but Bruce knew him only as 5-17 as they did not allow the alphas names. Hydra pulled him in and out of battle since his aggressive temper made him one of the best they had, but it also made him perfect for breeding. Right now he had been home for less than a month, still riled up from combat. His left arm wirred and jerked - it had been replaced with a metal one by Hydra engineers, making him even more fearsome.

And he was large enough to viscerally destroy the small male on the mattress before him. 

Bruce put a hand on the control bord.   
“Look at the omega. He will be ripped apart! The alpha is too big, it won’t work” he said sternly, but it was too late. Ian glanced at him and apologetically shrugged his shoulders.   
“Orders” he said quietly. Bruce let out an indignant breath and turned his eyes to the scene before them.   
“I’ll be the one having to patch him up afterwards” he muttered. But he settled down. 

5-17 had finally noticed the small omega. Which shouldn’t have taken him so long, Peter's pheromones were all over the place. They hadn’t unchained him, so he curled up in the corner of the mattress with his eyes stuck on the alpha like a deer before a predator. And Bruce supposed he was. But hopefully Peter's biology would take over and take him through this. It was evident it had already started – the male might look terrified, but his pupils were blown and no one could deny that the soft place between his legs had gone soaking wet. That was not something he could control. Omegas, especially unclaimed ones, could not be close to an undressed alpha in this state without reacting with submissiveness and an open, wet hole. Their bodies was prepared for breeding, ignoring any personal feeling towards the alpha. Even the omegas little cock turned hard between his legs, although it wasn't much to speak of. And the alpha was currently stalking up closer to him like he was prey. 5-17 sniffed the air, growling like the beast he was and crouched down closer to Peter. For a moment they simply looked at each other. Bruce knew 5-17 had instructions, that he’d done this before, but at this moment none of that mattered. He wasn’t allowed to claim Peter. If he tried to bite and bond with him, the shock collar would go off with a voltage enough to knock out a horse, but that might not be enough. That’s why they should not have let him inside the room with the omega. Also because of the fact that even when he was crouched together, he was still more than half the boy's size. His cock was hard and dripping and…well a lot bigger than Bruce's fingers had been. Perhaps it would be different now that the omega's body was having a reaction, but still. It could split him in two. 

Everything moved fast from here. 5-17 went down on all fours and pulled the omega close to him. He placed Peter roughly on his small hands and knees and put himself behind him in a way that gave the betas behind the glass a good view. Through the speakers they clearly heard Peter whimper and whine, unable to form words in the presence of an alpha of this calibre. Then the Winter Soldier mounted him. A long, choked sound went through the control room. It wasn’t clear if it were a pained sound, but Bruce wouldn’t call it pained. The alpha pressed inside all of him at once, something that shouldn’t be possible but he was dripping on the mattress and somehow he simply bent his lithe back and bowed down, letting 5-17 take him with all his growls and snarls. Submission came naturally to the omega. In the soldier's grip, he seemed even smaller than before, and the way his eyes rolled back when he got pounded even harder told of a feeling he’d never had before. Up until just now, Peter had been a virgin. The captured omega was held up on his knees and sunk down completely into the mattress with his skinny chest and young face, pressed down with a large hand around his neck. The chain made a sound every time the alpha fucked him. Bruce always found this part uncomfortable. But this time…he found himself liking it, in a strange way. Even though betas never had the same urge as an alpha to mate with an omega, seeing one go into heat like this did something to him. Not that what he had could measure with the size of someone like 5-17. And it would only go bigger. When he came inside the omega his cock would swell up and release to make sure he couldn’t pull out whilst it happened. Just as Bruce thought about what it must feel like to have something so immensely large inside, there was another snarl from 5-17 and he pressed close to the omega. They were locked together while his cock pumped in semen, seemingly going on forever. The glass was foggy from their warmth. On the mattress, the omega had been reduced to an unmoving heap, simply laying down and letting himself be filled up. 

It took another five minutes before the swelling went down and the alpha could be removed from him. 5-17 hadn’t claimed Peter…although there was no telling if he would allow any other of their alphas to mount him after this. Bruce slowly entered the room to make sure he was unhurt. When he met Peter's eyes he was almost completely gone, sunken into a different world. For the first time, he looked completely calm without sedatives. From between his legs leaked semen – there wasn’t a chance his body could contain it all. Bruce sighed, gently touching his swollen entrance and noticing how the little omega had ejaculated a pitiful amount on his own stomach as well. Now they could only hope the breeding worked. Otherwise this would have to be done all over again next week.


	2. The cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Peters perspective this time, he is back in his cell awaiting to see what's next.

When the door opened Peter was already awake and curled up in the corner of the mattress he slept on. It had been four days since the breeding, and Peter had slowly gotten less scared for each morning. Still, he was relieved when it was Dr Banner walking through the metal door. The other betas might only hit him when he wasn’t obeying fast enough, but Dr Banner never hit him at all. Peter carefully let go of the grip of his cover and placed his hands on the mattress to crawl towards the nice man. This morning he looked tired, white coat hastily thrown on and a five o’clock shadow on his jawline. The tray he set down before the omega contained food – a stew most likely extremely healthy as Peter had learned they wanted to keep him in top shape. In Dr Banner’s other hand was a metal briefcase, which caused Peter to inwardly sigh. It was time for another medical exam.

Peter was a few months shy of sixteen, so he had only been a child when the Wars started. Being an omega, he wasn’t allowed to be drafted for the army so instead he had lived in different “safe zones” with his aunt as the world quickly changed around them. Of course he had heard rumours of the Department of Breeding, but he thought it was a ghost story, told to keep little omegas such as himself inside the walls of the zones and discourage them from playing heroes. Only…then the screenings happened. Units of Hydra officials (all betas) accompanied by alpha soldiers had begun more or less raiding the zones trying to find omegas. They said they were going to take them to a safer place, that Canadian forces where hunting omegas down to be dragged back to serve their politicians. Aunt May were quick to catch on that this was nothing more than another lie – Hydra was the ones doing the hunting. She had died diverting soldiers as Peter crawled through the fence of the Queens safe zone to escape. A hero’s death, Peter thought, sadly but with pride. Aunt May, and brave people like her, were the true heroes of these Wars.

From there on, Peter had been on his own. As it turned out, he was quick and good at hiding. It served him well for over a year, but in the end he was just so tired and malnourished from living in the woods or ruins of towns destroyed. When a team of alpha soldiers captured him, he was sleeping in a tree and hadn’t woken up in time.

_Well,_ he thought as he spooned down the hot stew. _At least there is food here._ Peter tried to stay positive. And, maybe not for his own good, he tried making conversation. Dr Banner had finally stopped keeping him in a drugged out haze, so now Peter had slowly started going back to his normal talkative self. Honestly, there hadn’t been a lot of people to talk to the last year. Peering up at the doctor from under his overgrown brown hair, he swallowed and took a breath to prepare himself.

“This is good” he said, pointing with the spoon at his food. Dr Banner stood at the small table in the corner, having opened his metal briefcase and examined the contents. When Peter spoke he looked up and gave him something that Peter decided to take for a smile. Encouraged, he continued. “What happens today?” he asked. This time it was met by a sigh. Peter held his breath and hoped today was good day. The other men would never answer any of his questions and preferred he didn’t ask any, but Dr Banner was different. Stuffing his mouth again, making his cheeks puff out in a way that probably made him look even younger, he waited while the older man held up a syringe.

After a while, the answer came, albeit reluctantly.

“Today I am going to do a blood test. It won’t hurt more than the rest. I need to check if the breeding worked” Dr Banner said, turning to give him a look. “If you are pregnant” he finished, turning back to his syringe. Silence filled the room.

A knot formed in Peter’s stomach. Slowly he put the bowl down and stared at his crossed legs. The clothes they had given him was simple, a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt of the same colour. Fortunately, they had stopped chaining him to the wall whenever he was in his cell, but he still had the collar of thick black leather with a metal clasp and a sturdy ring to connect a chain to. This was the part he was afraid of. Despite the fact that he had reach his maturity as an omega, Peter still felt like a kid himself. And what would happen to any pup he carried? An omega would just get the same faith he did; an alpha they would turn into a killing machine and send of to war. A beta wasn’t any better. Worst case scenario Hydra kill it for being useless, best case scenario they would turn it into one of them.

And then there was the question of the alpha. 5-17, Dr Banner called him. Thinking of him turned the knot in Peter’s stomach to jelly – before earlier this week, no alpha had ever touched Peter, much less mated with him. Occupying his mind with thoughts of this strange soldier was the only thing keeping him from going insane in this small cell. He wanted to meet him again. He needed to meet him again. At night Peter would curl up under the cover and let his yearnings roam through his body, feel his hole go wet and not know whether to cry or cum. Having been alone for such a long time did something to a young omega. Then being bred the first thing that happened simply made it impossible not to feel like the alpha was his only secure point right now.

Therefore Peter was scared that the test would read positive and he would be torn from the alpha. His alpha.

Dr Banner most likely felt his fear coming off him in waves, but said nothing. He went through the procedure as professionally as always, reminding Peter of how he had examined him after the breeding when the omega was still floating on cloud nine. The doctor had been surprised on how well he had fared, most likely thinking he would be torn apart. But what he didn’t know was how Peter’s body had yielded to the alpha without thinking, having no choice but to open up and accept his cock inside of him.

After patching Peter’s arm up again Dr Banner went back to the metal briefcase. He was quiet when he put his things together to take back to what Peter assumed was a lab. When he left Peter was alone with his thoughts and his bed. He lay back with a sigh, placing a small hand on his stomach and staring up at the ceiling. Above him was a dark vent and stark white plates – a piece of dust hanging onto the bars of the vent. That was about the most exciting thing happening in the cell. After a while, he simply fell asleep, hugging his own knees.

-

Peter guessed it must have been evening when Dr Banner returned with another tray with food. The sombre look on his tired face gave Peter hope. And much to his guesses, the Hydra doctor wasted little time before telling him the result.

“Negative. You will have to redo the procedure in two days”. Peter’s heart skipped a beat. The first time he had found himself strapped to that mattress in the observation box of a room, he had been absolutely terrified. Now, getting to be close to the alpha again seemed like the best news since he was locked up in here. Sitting up straighter, he gave a small, childish smile. When Dr Banner saw that, he sighed. Then he pulled the chair over and sat down, something he did not usually do.

“Listen to me. You do know that under no circumstances can you bond with an alpha. Now I get it, you’re nervous and scared, and right now 5-17 probably feels like a safe person for you. But make no mistake: that alpha is an instrument for destruction and nothing else. He is barely even human, and his duties as a soldier will always come before his duties as a breeding male. Do you understand this?” he said. Peter didn’t. But he also knew that he must act like he did, so he nodded. Dr Banner nodded as well, clasping his hands. “Good. I believe you’re a smart boy. That is why I know you also will understand why the alpha breeding you in two days will not be 5-17” Dr Banner finished.

Peter felt his heart drop. All he could do was shake his head.

“No. No please, I’ll be good. I promise” he whimpered, curling up on himself. Dr Banner looked pained. He held up a hand.

“I know it seems scary. I have arranged a meeting so that it might work smoother. Is that okay?” he said. Peter didn’t quite understand what he meant, donning a look of tearful confusion. The doctor sighed again. “I will bring in 9-24. I will allow him to smell you, and for you to smell him, and all will calm down. Okay?”

Peter did not really have much of a choice but to agree. His pulse had spiked and he found himself hugging his feet like he used to as a child when he was afraid of the dark. He tried his best to see the good in Dr Banner for allowing him to smell this new alpha first, something he probably had no obligation to the programme to do. But his heart hurt and his omega instinct told him to make a run for it, run until he found his own alpha.

Since there was no way of doing that, he simply sat where he did as Dr Banner called through his radio for the guards to bring in 9-24. It only took about three minutes, but those were terrible three minutes. Even though Dr Banner was trying to make some sort of half-hearted conversation, Peter wasn’t responding, or even looking at him. They could force him to do a lot of things, but paying attention didn’t always have to be one of them. When the door eventually opened, no less than two beta guards held onto metal rods that led to a snare around the alphas neck, while one held the chain that led to his handcuffs.

Now, Peter had never accepted Hydra’s propaganda that alphas weren’t really human. He thought it disgusting to describe other people as beasts, and he still ignored it while in this facility. But when he saw 9-24, it was the first time he understood what they might mean. The alpha was large, albeit not as large as 5-17. None of his limbs were metal, but his t-shirt showed how veins popped in each muscle. His hair was shaved, unlike the wild tresses of his alpha, and before his mouth was something that could only be described as a muzzle. Like he was a _dog._ When he caught scent of the little omega he snarled, lurching forward. It took all of the three guards to contain him. The one holding onto his hands gave him a small electric shock with a rod, making the alpha give another sound before calming down. They led him into the cell and he was allowed to lean forward a smell Peter.

What Peter smelled in return felt all wrong. Like a rancid, dead thing, 9-24 s _tank,_ simply because he _wasn’t Peter’s alpha._ The wild look in the alpha’s face and how his eyes just looked like pits of nothing made Peter jerk backward. Involuntarily he did something he had almost never done before – he growled. He knew it was bad, knew he was being bad, but by god he could help it. An alpha who had no right was smelling him like he was dinner, and he wasn’t having it.

From there it all oved quickly. 9-24 was removed, and Peter was turned over by Dr Banner who pulled down his pants to confirmed that he had not lubricated one bit. One last sigh. Then the older man seemed to yield.

“Fine. I will have them prepare 5-17 for you. Two days” he said, before leaving.


	3. A soldier undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the second procedure. 
> 
> Also the muzzle - I'm thinking it looks a lot like the mask Bucky wore in "Captain America: the Winter Soldier" :)

5-17 was isolated in one of the barracks when they came for him. Seeing as he had a procedure today, he hadn’t been allowed to the training facilities. Therefor he sat in the dim light completely still, staring at the concrete wall before him. The medics had already prepared him and he was naked on the bench with the shock collar on. On that part, he supposed he was lucky – some of the other alphas were never allowed to take the collar off. They were wilder than what was safe, a result of the total ban of stabilizers. But not him. The Winter Soldier had earned his name for being disciplined and ruthless, like an icy storm. 5-17 had heard a guard joke once that he was “the dog least likely to bite your hand”, and he supposed that was true. Unless you were an enemy of the States (or Hydra) – in that case he was well in his power to rip arms off.

That was why he was surprised when the two beta guards who came inside the barrack brought a muzzle for him. There was a twinge in his stomach, for having to wear a muzzle usually meant you’d done something bad. 5-17 hated doing something bad – they had made damn sure that he did. The left guard holding it shrugged his shoulder in a manner that might be interpreted as apologetically (but probably wasn’t).

“Safety precaution” he explained, which confused the soldier even more even though he didn’t show it. 5-17 had never bitten an omega he had mounted. Never even tried; to him they might as well be faceless omegas, mattering very little to him. His mission was the Wars, the breeding programme was just a duty he had when he was taken in for training and regrouping.

Knowing better than to question the guards however, 5-17 just held out his arms and let them put the black muzzle over his face. The first five months they had chained his arms and legs to the wall whenever they had to put on a collar or a muzzle. Whenever Dr Banner was to do an examination or they subjected him to injections destabilizing the balance of his hormones or electric shocks to muddy the memories of his past, they strapped him to a chair instead. He had hated that chair. Even more than being hung half from a wall, he _hated_ that chair. Somewhere along the treatment he received there he had lost track of his name and trying to think of it just gave him a massive headache – it was easier to accept that 5-17 was his soldier’s name now. Luckily, his transformation had worked and now he only had his right arm tied down when the engineers did work on his cybernetic arm. The pain made it likely he would punch them.

Naked, collared and muzzled, he was finally ready to be led into the breeding room. Walking beside the betas through the long, dirty white corridors, 5-17 felt like a giant. He towered above them with enough strength in his human arm to crush one of their throats should he get a chokehold. The thought had crossed his mind. He might not remember what he did before all this, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t being kept in chains and shock collars, herded around like an animal.

What stopped those thoughts was that…well, he might actually _be_ an animal. Hydra had told him so every day since he woke up here, and for every kill he got in battle he felt it being confirmed more and more. 5-17 was a war dog. Where did war dogs go when let off the leash?

“Here we are. Behave or the collar goes off” the same guard said, a routine statement. He knew this. The door slid open to reveal the familiar room with the large glass window on the right hand side. On the other side he recognized Dr Banner in his white lab coat and the other technicians he’d never learned the name of. He met Banners eyes through the glass, wondering if they saw any of the blue or if his pupils had already dilated to black.

Then the scent hit him.

Turning his head quickly, 5-17 saw the same little omega he had met a week ago. This time he wasn’t drugged, something visible in his behaviour. Still the small male was chained to the wall with his collar, but now he sat up leaning on his arms. 5-17 hadn’t known they were going to allow him to mate with the same omega again. That had never happened before.

Sure, the first time 5-17 had seen the boy he had felt his entire body react. Despite being know for being able to contain himself, no alpha in his right mind could have seen that barely mature omega and not wanted to pounce. Turning him over and pounding him into the mattress had felt a lot better than he had wanted to admit. But this second time he realized with full force how _good_ the omega smelled. It was like right after a spring rain; like the feeling of being safe. He may not have very many good smells to compare with, but this was by far his new favourite. Combined with the fact that the room was filled pheromones coming off the young omega in waves, the scent of his already wet whole overpowering, it was almost enough to make 5-17 loose his control completely.

Suddenly he saw how beautiful the boy really was; skin pale and perfect, hair tussled and his skinny figure paired with the cutest little omega-cock 5-17 had ever seen. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or devour him. Feeling the black muzzle strain against his jawbones, he figured kissing wasn’t an option anyway. Honestly, 5-17 had no memories of ever kissing anyone. This must be the first time he wondered for real what that would feel like.

The sound of the door closing behind him woke him up. Much more slowly than last time he approached, 5-17 stalked closer to the mattress on the floor. The entire time the omega stared at him – perhaps the alpha was expecting fear in his hazel eyes, being that he was well over twice the omega’s size, and currently had a pretty violent-looking muzzle on. But he didn’t see that. What he saw in those dark eyes was…calm? Maybe admiration? It wasn’t easy for a soldier like himself to depict these kinds of emotions in other people (or himself), so the look was confusing to him. The only thing 5-17 knew for sure was that it was a positive emotion.

Feeling his body react, his cock was already hard when he took to one knee on the mattress. Another wave of pheromones came off the omega, making 5-17 involuntarily growl. The sound made the omega spread his knees apart – not sure if that was voluntary either. Over the speaker in the room he heard one of the men in the room on the other side say something, but right now he couldn’t focus on that. Instead 5-17 leaned in closer on one knee and looked at the young, fragile little omega with a puzzled face. He was a beauty. Looking back was someone who seemed never to have done anything close to the horrors 5-17 had done – an innocent. 5-17 had not been sure they existed anymore. The Wars were so dirty, the entire world felt dirty as well. The alpha smelled him again, placing his knuckles on the mattress to get closer.

Up came the smallest of hands. Slowly, as if he knew he might not be behaving right now, the omega lifted his hand up to the alpha’s face and ever so gently touched his cheek, the part not covered by the muzzle. It almost made 5-17 jerk his head back. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him so gently. Perhaps it had never happened before either.

This time, the loud voice of Dr Banner came through to him.

“Perform the procedure _now_ or be taken back to the barracks, 5-17! This is your final warning” the doctor said sternly. The command made the alpha growl again under the mask. Exchanging a look with the omega, he got a tiny nod in response showing the omega understood.

Therefore 5-17 finally gave into his urges and grabbed the boy’s hips to turn him around and press him down so his back was against the mattress and his wet hole presented to him. Willingly, the omega followed his directions. It was all 5-17 could do not tear the muzzle off and bury his face in that tight, slick hole. It begged to be licked. As it twitched right before him, he thought maybe it begged even more to be fucked. Two of his long fingers went inside the omega at once, going deep and checking there would be no problem entering him. Then he positioned his huge body behind the much smaller, lined up his alpha cock and with a satisfying grunt 5-17 sank deep. The whimper coming from the omega only made him want to fuck him faster, so he wasted no time pulling almost all the way out and pounding back in. The sounds it emitted from the omega egged him on further, and he soon worked up a pace he normally would be worried could wreck his mate.

It didn’t though. The boy simply spread his legs and moaned into the mattress, sinking himself down further and that way getting himself in an even more submissive position. 5-17 leaned forward and gripped his neck hard while the other hand went to the mattress. The feeling of his massive cock getting sucked into that impossibly small hole made everything melt away – he forgot about the people behind the glass, he forgot about the shock collar and all that occupied his mind was the sweet boy beneath him. He wanted to fuck him until he came apart; he wanted to fill his little body with an entire litter of pups. It was everything to him now, the wet, warm feeling around his cock and the whimpers of the omega before him.

The backs of the omega’s thighs must be bruising at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind it one bit. He had gone completely lax, practically drooling on the sheet. 5-17 growled one last time and leaned forward so that he pressed his muzzle against the omegas back. Like that, in the closest way he could come to biting down, 5-17 came, buried as deep as he could. His knot swelled up and suddenly they were locked together.

His breathing was deep when he gently wrapped his arms around the omega and slowly moved them over so they lay on their side. He knew they didn’t want them to do this, but right now he didn’t care – he wanted to cradle the other and hold him while they were locked. No one stopped him. Perhaps no one dared. In any case it made his heartbeat calmer, and the omega’s, when he could hug him close and allow the omega’s body to relax in a more comfortable position while he could feel his semen slowly become to much for the omega and leak out even with the knot locked in there.

It was in this moment, this stolen moment of calm before the doctor walked in and separated them, that the omega whispered his first word to 5-17, so low it was barely audible:

“Peter”.


	4. A name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5-17 has training. It's hard to focus.

_Peter._

The word had rung through 5-17’s head all day. No, not a word. A name. It was a _name._ He repeated it to himself all through training, saying it silently as he hit the punching bag, like a strange mantra.

_Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter. Peter._

By the time Commander Rumlow called it off, the alpha’s right knuckle was bleeding. The left one felt nothing, but he had an ache in his shoulder instead. Not knowing if it was confusion or anger, or maybe something completely different, 5-17 did what he usually did and tried to punch it out of himself. He hadn’t known they let the omegas keep their names. He’d always thought they too were given numbers, like the alphas. Or what if Hydra had given the omega – no, Peter – a number and he had found a way to remember his name anyway? A brief thought passed his mind, almost like a whisper.

_What if he could remember his real name as well?_

Shaking his head and grunting, he chased the thought away. He was 5-17. He would always be 5-17. The only other name he would ever have was the Winter Soldier, which spoke of his true identity. A soldier.

Suddenly the Commander stood above him where he sat at the bench, re-wrapping his hand. With his hands at his waist in the black combat suit, it hardly mattered that Rumlow was a smaller man – he had way of exerting authority. The Commander’s face was covered in scarring and one of his ears was malformed, making him an even more intimidating figure. An injury sustained in the Wars, flames taken for Hydra. Some of the other alphas in the barracks said that was why they made him a Commander and let him keep his name (at least his last name for all they knew), but 5-17 wasn’t so sure. An alpha would have to do more than mess up their face to get a privilege like that – just look around the training rooms. There were scars and deformed skin to be seen everywhere. And just as many shock collars.

“5-17. Stand” the high ranking alpha ordered. Instantly, 5-17 rose and stood, legs apart and hands behind his back. Suddenly he was almost a head taller than Commander Rumlow. From the look Rumlow gave him, he might as well be two heads shorter. His eyes bore into the soldier from their scarred surroundings.

“You seem riled” he continued, observing 5-17’s sweaty body and bloodied knuckle. His hair was tied back, but a few tresses had escaped and laid slick to his face. However, Rumlow gave no time to answer before speaking again. “Maybe you can take some of it out on one of our newer recruits”. With that he nodded towards the mat where they practised full body contact fights – on it stood a lean alpha 5-17 didn’t recognize, with a shaved head and sombre face. His black clothes matched the one’s 5-17 was wearing, and his eyes seemed somewhat blank. Most likely they were feeding him drugs to calm him in the beginning. “This is 5-4. He’s a pararescue and will be on your platoon; I was thinking you should break him in” Rumlow said. 5-17 only nodded. They had lost an alpha last battle, and Hydra was always quick to replace them. 5 was the number of their platoon; 4 had been the number of the fallen alpha. The betas constructed their “names” like this to remind them they were a part of their team first, an individual only secondly. And above all else – replaceable.

Knowing what was coming next, he reached his cybernetic arm back and allowed Rumlow to tie it back, rendering it useless. This was done before all the fights with newer recruits – most soldiers did in fact not have cybernetic limbs with unprecedented power. If he was allowed to fight with it (especially with a new alpha still effected by stabilizers), he could accidently kill them. And it was fairer to start like this, seeing as 5-17 was a seasoned soldier and this pararescue probably wasn’t. Rumlow tied it back hard than it needed to be – 5-17 was used to that too. Sometimes he thought Rumlow enjoyed that, pulling his metal arm back in a position that left his shoulder aching. Quickly he chased those thoughts away too. _Order only comes through pain._ Without it, it would be chaos. Rumlow hurt him for his own good. That was true, and all else were _bad thoughts._

Ready, the Winter Soldier stepped up on the mat, still with combat boots on. It was constructed so that they would not break anything if they fell, but still get used being kicked with heavy boots. 5-17 positioned himself with his right arm raised, body poised. He met the eyes of 5-4. The other man looked back, then glancing at Commander Rumlow, then started positioning himself as well. The blank expression seemed to falter a little – perhaps 5-4 was getting a clear moment away from the sedatives, or perhaps he was realizing the sheer size of 5-17. Whatever it was, it did not matter to 5-17. His mission was to fight this stranger, and he would. Thinking about that, he engaged.

The first blow caught 5-4 right in the ribs, making the smaller man double over and 5-17 halted to let him get up. Quickly, the pararescue shifted his position and swung his right arm at 5-17’s face. He ducked the blow and countered with another that caught 5-4 in the upper arm. His balance was slightly off given he was one-handed, but he had been trained to fight in any condition possible and soon got used to it again. The pair moved across the mat, exchanging blows and kicks as the Commander observed them with his arms crossed from the side.

When 5-4 suddenly diverted a punch to his skull and got a hit in at the junction between the larger alpha’s prosthetic and his shoulder, 5-17 grunted in pain. It was a vulnerable area to him – all the wires and screws attached to skin, nerves and bone made it so the punch from 5-4 sent a jolt of pain throughout his upper body. Realizing this, 5-4 acted before 5-17 had regained his sense and threw another blow at the same area; this one full force.

The flash of agony, making his shoulder throb, made 5-17 take a full step back. He saw white dots cloud his vision – and then suddenly he was back in the breeding room. Before him was no longer the pararescue, but the small omega looking at him like he was water and he was dying of thirst. _Peter._ It was only a second; hell, only a split second, then he was back on the mat. But the memory sparked something in 5-17. _Peter._ His name was Peter. He had a name. And they kept him locked up in chains like an animal, the beautiful, _human boy_ was kept in a cage.

The growl halted the pararescue in his advance. It drew the attention of everyone close, for only alphas about to go into rage growled like that. The next blow he landed on 5-4 caused him to start backing; when 5-17 kept raining blows with his right arm the white linen wrapped around his knuckle started to bleed through again, staining the new alpha. _Peter._ The name rang through him as he beat down, ignoring the shouts from the Commander. _Peter, Peter, Peter._ The pararescue could barely keep his guard up at this point and bled heavily from a cut in his black eyebrow, the blood staining his dark skin. All 5-17 saw was the black combat suit. The clothes _they_ wore. Those who kept Peter in a cage.

“Back off! I am warning you 5-17!” Rumlow’s shouts echoed through the room, to which 5-17 only snarled and snapped at 5-4. When the new alpha staggered on his feet, 5-17 lifted his right leg and with all his force kicked the pararescue’s chest. The man fell to the floor, not moving.

If Commander Rumlow had not intervened at that moment, 5-17 wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have killed him. The Commander, aided by two alphas of platoon 2, dragged him away from the mat and back towards the further wall. In the corner of his eyes 5-17 saw how several beta guards rushed forward to take care of 5-4. He himself was instead thrown against the wall and then held in place by the two soldiers. Rumlow sounded like he was about to go in rage himself.

“Disobeying direct orders! I should have you shock collared for this, 5-17, or thrown into isolation. Be glad I haven’t made up my mind yet”” he shouted, spit flying. 5-17 breathed heavily, trying not to rip free from the grip around his arm that kept him facing the wall. He wanted to growl, wanted to rip the throat out of 2-13 closest to him – but that would get him killed. Anyway, it didn’t matter. Behind him he heard the distinct sound of a baton being pulled out.

“Take his shirt off, and secure him” Commander Rumlow ordered. Before 5-17 could react, they had ripped off his black shirt and released his cybernetic arm. They started chaining both his arms to the hooks always present for times like this, leaving him with spread arms stretched taught, unable to turn around. Knowing what would come next, 5-17 steeled himself.

Commander Rumlow hit him twenty times. The baton didn’t rip the skin like a whip did, but at the end he was bleeding and bruised more badly than 5-4 would be. When it was over, 5-17 let his teeth go of the inside of his cheeks. His entire mouth tasted like blood, but at least he hadn’t made a sound during the entire time. The Commander didn’t like it when they screamed. Instead he had repeated something inside his head during the corporal punishment. Something he didn’t think they could ever beat out of him now. A name.

_Peter._


	5. Dr Banner visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr Banner has to speak to Peter about things.

Three days had gone by since Peter last saw anything but this cell. Since he had felt the alpha inside him. He laid on his bed, staring at the stupid dust still hanging from the vent. The first day he wondered if he’d done a mistake, telling him his name like that. What if Dr Banner overheard them? It drove him crazy thinking that he might have gotten him into trouble or even hurt – Peter hadn’t failed to notice that the muzzle was a new detail. Exhaling heavily, he tilted the book laying on his chest so it fell down to the floor with a _thump._ The worry had gotten easier on the second day when Dr Banner brought him two battered copies of books to still his boredom. Peter had already finished the first, _Alice in Wonderland._ The second, _The Wizard of Oz,_ was the one now currently on the floor. Now, he wasn’t ungrateful to Dr Banner, don’t let it be said that he was. Getting something to do in here that wasn’t staring at something was a great change. But his apparent good sense of detail had led to him to not failing to notice that both were, in fact, children’s books.

While alpha’s might be considered more beasts than men, omegas were subject to the propaganda that they were helpless, weak and _simple._ Much like children. Peter suspected that if he asked for another book, that too would be of the same category.

So now he was back to worrying again. Not even bothering to ask the guards coming in with his food, he had instead tries every day for Dr Banner’s daily visits to get some information out of him. Subtly, that is. He knew he might be pushing it already – but honestly he was going crazy in here. There wasn’t even the sore feeling left between his legs anymore (Dr Banner made sure to take good care of those parts of him), and that made him feel even more disconnected from 5-17. Peter placed his arm over his face to shut out the bright light and the vent. Truly he hated having to refer to the tall, brown-haired alpha as ‘5-17’, but he really didn’t have another name for him. During the breeding, the alpha hadn’t been able to speak through the muzzle. Now, Peter was starting to realize it wouldn’t have mattered anyway since the alpha probably didn’t have another name than 5-17 to give him.

Softly biting into the grey sweatshirt, the 16-year-old wondered to himself how many of the rumours were true about Hydra. Did they really torture alphas? Did they tear babies away from the arms of their omegas? Sometimes, in the dark of the cold apartments in the safe zones, other people had told him these things like they were ghost stories. “Don’t let Hydra catch you, they will eat you”. These were the words best spoken in the dead of night – when it all came around, Hydra was the government and the government provided the safe zones. Hydra protected them. Everyone who hid from the horrors of the Wars had to put their trust in Hydra, their new leaders, and spreading rumours did worse things than get the attention of a beta official – it could crush the hope of the common people.

However, knowing what he did now, Peter almost laughed at the thought. Dr Banner might tell him again and again how nicely he was being treated, how safe he was, but after all these were still people who put omegas in cages and muzzles on alphas. He squeezed the blanket in his fist. A soft cage, but a cage all the same.

The sound of the door sliding open woke Peter from his thoughts. He lifted his arm and peered up, seeing Dr Banner coming into his cell with a tray of food. That must mean it was evening. The omega sighed and sat up on the bed, placing his naked feet on the floor.

“Hello Peter” Dr Banner said while handing him the tray and sitting down on the chair. Underneath his usual white coat was a checked shirt with coffee stains on it and a tie quite badly put together. It was obvious from his tussled, grey-streaked hair and the rings beneath his eyes that the doctor was tired. Slowly picking up a fork and stabbing a piece of broccoli, Peter glanced at him again and took his chance at conversation.

“Hello doc. How are you? You look kinda tired” he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he stuffed the vegetable in his mouth. In response he got a sigh and a sort of half smile. The beta had gotten progressively more relaxed around Peter since he came there – perhaps he was easier to work around than an alpha.

“Yes, well…” he started, trailing off as if he were considering whether to continue or not. Peter held his breath and stopped chewing for a second before reminding himself to go on. Anxious to get news on 5-17, he couldn’t blow it by not eating his veggies. In the end, Dr Banner finished his sentence. “There is actually a few things we need to talk about”. Peter nodded, swallowing and shoving mashed potato in to keep the doctor talking. Dr Banner sighed again and readjusted his glasses, leaning forward on his elbows.

“In a few days, I will be able to test you again. But from how your vitals are looking now, I’m afraid the test will come up negative. We had been hoping that the presence of an alpha would have caused you to go into heat by now, which regrettably hasn’t been the case. I would assume your young age and long malnutrition is making it harder for you. There we’ve decided that if it turns out you are not pregnant this week either, we will chemically induce a heat” Dr Banner told him, clasping his hands together. Peter had a harder time swallowing this time. He had actually never gone into heat before – those did not occur normally until at least a year after reaching maturity, and by then he was living alone in the woods off of whatever he could find. His body hadn’t had the energy to go into heat. Although he supposed that if it would be a heat spent with the alpha he missed so much, it would all be okay.

When Peter finally nodded, Dr Banner looked relived. Of course, they could just strap him down and give him the injections in any case, but a pliant omega was always preferred. Unclasping his hands in a sort of gesture, the doctor continued.

“Good. You’re a good boy Peter”. The omega couldn’t help but feel how that last comment warmed his ears and heart. “And as soon as you get pregnant, I promise you will be transferred from this room. All our omegas who are carrying live together in a collective apartment, sharing beds and meals. It is very positive for the development of the pup, or pups, to have closeness to other omegas. Does that sound good?” he asked. Peter was munching his food and in his mind, really anything sounded better than this cell (or “room” as the doctor would have it), so he nodded again.

“Yes sir” he said, stabbing another veggie.

Now Dr Banner changed his relieved expression to one of…concern, perhaps. It instantly put Peter on edge, and his fears weren’t put down when the beta started talking again either.

“There is, unfortunately, the…problem regarding 5-17. He can no longer be allowed to participate for the time being. I am afraid you will have to contend with another alpha this time. It is not negotiable. I will personally make sure it is one of the calmer ones we have”.

Peter’s throat close. The beet he had just swallowed got lodged and he had to cough not to choke. It felt as if all his worst thoughts from the last three days were rushing over him like a tidal wave, making his pulse spike to a level that would have concerned Dr Banner. Had this been his fault? For saying his stupid name? Trying not to assume the worst before he knew, Peter quickly turned to ask what the doctor meant.

“What do you mean? Is he…is he gone?” he asked, not being able to ask anything else. Gone could mean anything. The beta furrowed his brows and looked upon him with pity. He seemed to think again. Looking over his shoulder at the door, Dr Banner pushed his chair closer and lowered his voice.

“Look, both of us know I am not supposed to talk to you about the alphas. But I know you seem to be fond of him, and I do not blame you. 5-17 is in solitary for misbehaving, and he will be sent out to serve as soon as possible. I will not give you any illusions Peter. You will never see him again”.

The words hit Peter straight to the chest. His alpha would be sent out to the Wars again. Without him. Maybe he would even die for this organisation that would force him to go through a heat scared and with the closest alpha at hand, before shoving him together with other omegas raped to pregnancy. Peter couldn’t breathe. He didn’t respond when Dr Banner left two pills “for sleep” on the table and left. The tray would have slipped from his grip hadn’t the doctor grabbed it on his way out.

Silently the omega laid down his back and hugged the pillow to his chest. Was this is life now? Thrown around like a bone amongst dogs, never allowed to find an alpha to bond with? Would he ever get to kiss the alpha who still was the only one ever to mate with him, or even touch him? The thoughts hurt his head and spilled over in the form of tears. Above him, the piece of dust finally had enough and let go of the vent to slowly float down towards the floor. Peter cried, listening to the sounds of nothing as the building went silent around him. After a while, he fell into a restless sleep.

In his dream, he saw Aunt May as she had been the last time he had ever seen her. He remembered her where she stood at the edge of the fence in the dim lights from a fire in a trash can. The night seemed endless in the sky above them. She was smiling. Tears fell down her cheeks, but she was smiling at him, holding his pale face in her warm hands.

“Be brave, Peter” she whispered to him. Behind them were the distant shouts of guards. Guards looking for them. For him. “Be brave sweetheart. You get out, and you run until you can’t anymore. You just run, my brave boy. I love you so much” Aunt May whispered, blinking away the tears. Then she kissed his cheek, and turned around towards the sounds coming closer. Peter was just going to scream at her not to go when she dissolved, becoming a cloud of smoke evaporating into the darkness.

Peter woke up, still on his back. The room was dark now. Above him, he saw the same sight he’d seen every day since coming here. The vent, right above him. The bars separating him and an air-filled tunnel out of here. Closing his fist tight, his resolve hardened. _You get out, and you run._ This wasn’t going to be his life. He was getting out of here. And this time, he wasn’t going alone.


End file.
